


Flickering Lights

by softiee



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Darth Vader's A+ parenting, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Imperial Luke Skywalker, Sith Leia Organa, Sith Luke Skywalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:34:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28647609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softiee/pseuds/softiee
Summary: "I can’t kill my own sister," Luke finally admits. "You can't ask that of me."Vader is silent again. His son is extremely talented and powerful, but he lacks an essential trait of the Sith: thirst for revenge.“If you won’t," Vader answers, "then she will.”
Relationships: Leia Organa & Darth Vader, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker, Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 103
Collections: 2020 Star Wars Luke & Vader Winter Exchange





	Flickering Lights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liz_mo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liz_mo/gifts).



> I tried to do something a little different this time around :)  
> This work is part of the 2020 Luke and Vader Winter fic exchange! Happy holidays and let's hope 2021 is a little kinder to us.  
> For liz_mo. Hope you enjoy it!

“You lied to me.” 

Silence stretches over the dark room. With his back turned to him, Darth Vader doesn't answer. He continues to contemplate the vastness of space through the transparisteel windows. There, in the middle of the darkness, he can sense the last of the Rebel ships jumping into hyperspace. A narrow escape, only possible because his son had decided to let them go at the last second. 

The only sounds that permeate through the silence are the assisted breathing of the Dark Lord and the agitated respiration of his son. 

“You said she wouldn’t be there.” 

He's furious. Vader can tell. He can almost taste the scorching wave of Luke’s rage. For a second he lets it wash over him, he takes in the incredible power his son exudes through every pore. It’s amazing how different he is to Vader’s own power: where his is pure darkness, all consuming and eternal, Luke is a vivid flame of destruction. Where Vader takes, Luke gives. A black hole –silent, endless– and a supernova of death. 

“Will you even _ look  _ at me?” Luke demands, his scream almost hysterical. 

Still silent, Vader turns. His son looks terrible: his black uniform is torn and burnt around the edges. His boots drenched in what looks like motor oil, the stench making its way to Vader's respirator. Every available surface of skin is covered in dried blood. Except his hands: both flesh and silver metal are actively dripping into the floor. Even his dirty blond hair has lost its vibrant color, now matted down with the coagulated liquid. It’s not Luke's blood, if it were Vader wouldn’t have summoned him here, sending him to the medical wing instead. No, Luke is soaked in the blood of everyone who had dared step on his path. 

Except for one person. 

“You let the Rebels escape,” is all Vader says. 

Luke visibly flinches. His anger flakes for a second and he looks around the room blinking, seemingly lost. His golden eyes lose intensity and for an instant Vader is sure to catch a shade of blue. The moment passes and the rage ignites again on his son’s face, his eyes burning gold, twisting his features into a scowl. 

_ “She _ was there!” Luke screams. “You said she wouldn’t! I couldn’t just–! It’s not  _ fair!” _ His voice breaks at the last word. 

Vader crosses his arms in front of his armored chest. “Your sister is a traitor,” he points at Luke’s face with his index finger, and his son takes a step back, “and I expect you to treat her as such. She has chosen her path.” 

Luke’s breathing becomes agitated again. Vader knows the betrayal of his twin sister is still a fresh wound for him, and it clouds his judgment. He understands. He’s made the same mistakes once, with the man he considered a brother too. And for those mistakes Vader paid a very steep price. He will not let Luke destroy himself like Skywalker had. 

But he also knows that Luke inherited his mother’s heart. What was once a blessing could become his undoing. His sister will not show the same compassion Luke had shown her today.

Which is why Vader won’t either. He had never wanted to choose between his children. It was the way of the Sith, only one Master and only one Apprentice. He knew that one day he would be forced to select one of them as his Apprentice. Vader had become greedy, training both children so they would have the upper hand when taking on his Master. But that imbalance had caused a rift between the twins, making them act competitive and suspicious of each other, both knowing only one of them would prevail in the end. 

Leia had made it easier by abandoning them altogether. 

She had chosen weakness. The same way her mother had, all those years ago. Vader wouldn't allow his son to make the same mistake. 

“If I had informed you of her presence you wouldn’t have completed your mission.” Vader takes a step forward and Luke takes in a sharp breath. “Because you  _ have _ completed your mission, haven't you?” 

Luke’s rage seems to deflate. With trembling fingers, he extends a blood soaked hand. He’s holding a small data disk which contains the plans to the battle station they’re standing on. The plans so many Rebels perished trying to smuggle out of Scarif. The plans his daughter helped them retrieve. 

Vader takes the disk from Luke’s hand. “Good. You haven’t failed me completely.” 

His son doesn’t meet his eyes. Vader can sense his unease, the Force curling around his mind with poisonous interest. 

"What's troubling you?" Vader demands. 

Luke takes a full minute to answer. His body has stopped trembling, but he's still riding the high of the adrenaline and bloodthirst of battle. Whatever is on his son’s mind are not rational thoughts.

"I can’t kill my own sister," Luke finally admits. "You can't ask that of me."

Vader is silent again. His son is extremely talented and powerful, but he lacks an essential trait of the Sith: thirst for revenge. Leia had always been the spiteful one, it's what drove her to betrayal. Vader knows she didn't defect to join a noble and stupid cause. He  _ knows _ she did it in direct retaliation against him. She had always been an individualist, in detriment of her brother's unyielding loyalty. 

“If you won’t," Vader answers, "then she will.” 

Luke's face crumbles. He can feel the truth behind his words, the Force singing with terrible certainty. 

“I don't–” 

“You will do what you’re told," Vader cuts him, ending the conversation. 

Luke closes his eyes. “Yes,  _ Master _ .” 

***

It’s Luke who orders the Death Star firing on Alderaan. It accomplishes nothing, except perhaps gaining Sidious’ favor. It’s done out of pure malice, and it’s coated with noxious envy. In all the years they spent on Imperial Center, never once had Luke shown interest in politics the way Leia had. Vader had tolerated her borderline rebellious friendship with Senator Organa, mostly out of respect for the memory of Padmé. He sees now his mistake, how he allowed the man to poison Leia’s head with lies and empty promises. Vader knew Luke saw their relationship with envy, that he longed for a connection to his mother as well. But Organa never showed him the same polite sympathy he expressed for Leia. Vader knew the reason: it was easy to see Leia and find Padmé, but it was impossible to watch Luke and not see Vader.

It’s for that reason he decides to simply watch from the Death Star’s viewport as the planet is turned to ash. His son paces the bridge like a caged animal, not satisfied even in the face of total annihilation. The room is filled with high ranking officers, and they’re all silent.

***

It takes almost six months for Luke to finally find his sister again. He confronts her inside an old refinery in what used to be a Separatist world, standing over the metal walkway over the heavy machinery. The place is deserted of anyone besides her: she probably sensed him coming and stayed behind to allow others to escape. But he’s trapped her, and she stands in the center of the walkway with a furious expression. She looks terrible: her clothing dirty, her hair messy, and her face looks like she hasn’t had a good night's sleep in weeks. 

Luke feels a kind of perverted pleasure knowing she hasn't been able to rest easily.  _ Good _ . Let guilt consume her. Guilt is not an emotion of the dark side. Guilt would only make her weak. 

Strangely, she smiles. 

“Well,” Leia tells him with a low drawl. “I guess you’re not that useless after all.” 

It has the desired effect. Instantly, Luke is seething with rage. “Surrender,  _ Rebel _ ,” he spits out. “Before I kill you.”

She twists her head and lets out a cruel laugh. “Are you so sure about that, little brother? You have never been able to win in a fight against me. What makes you think you will now?”

_ Because I have nothing left to lose,  _ thinks Luke, but doesn't say it. She’s able to read it off his expression anyway, she knows him too well.

“Still desperate for Daddy’s approval?” Leia mocks him. When he doesn’t respond, she scowls. “It's pointless. He’s nothing but a heartless monster, incapable of love.” 

The jab hurts more than it has the right to hurt him. Luke ignites his lightsaber, bathing the room in crimson light, and launches at her. 

***

“Lord Vader, sir,” Admiral Piett’s voice calls for him from behind. “General Skywalker is here to see you.” 

The announcement is unnecessary: Vader was capable of sensing his son’s arrival to  _ The Executor _ as soon as he entered the system. If Luke sent Piett ahead to announce his presence, he must be doing it for the theatrics. If he's in the mood, it must mean good news. 

“Let him in.” 

The Admiral nods and presses the control to the entrance doors to Vader’s personal office. Behind them stands Luke, his golden eyes shining through the black hood that’s thrown over his head. Piett nods, lets him into the room, and then disappears through the hallway. The doors hiss as they close behind him. 

Luke throws something at Vader’s feet. He’s smiling, wild, like a feral animal who’s been released from its enclosure. He’s gloating. Vader looks down.

A lightsaber, battered and broken down. Still attached to it there’s a human hand, severed at the elbow, covered in blood and dirt. 

Leia’s lightsaber. 

Vader looks up at Luke, who watches him expectantly. He looks manic, and a little out of it. He’s desperate for praise, like an abandoned and starving animal searching for scraps of food. 

“You failed,” is all Vader says. 

Luke freezes. His victorious act dissolves in an instant, and he takes a step forward. “No. _ No! _ I defeated her.  _ I won!” _

Vader doesn’t look at him. “She’s still alive.” 

Datapads and papers fly from Vader’s desk as a small wind explosion comes from Luke, as he screams with delirious frustration. 

“I won!” he insists, the breaks in his voice betraying him. 

Vader moves his mechanic hand and removes the lightsaber from the severed appendage with the Force. The metal cylinder makes it way through the air and he closes his fist around it, dirtying his gloved hands with residual blood. Her blood.  _ His _ blood. 

“As long as she’s alive, she’s still a threat.” 

Luke watches him in silence, his eyes shining with unshed tears, as Vader exits the room and leaves him behind. 

***

It’s a year later when Luke finds her again. And in  _ Tatooine _ of all places. The disgusting dustball is nothing but a hellscape where the worst scum society has to offer thrive in their misery. It’s almost funny how low his sister has managed to fall. 

She’s there to save a friend. Or a decoration piece, Luke doesn’t really care. Whatever stupid sense of noblety she’s pretending to have will only lead her to situations like this one: chained and enslaved. An insult to her bloodline. 

Luke takes great pleasure in cutting down every one of Jabba’s stupid goons, almost singing to himself. They plead for mercy, they offer money and pleasures of all kinds. Nothing they have could ever satisfy him anyway. 

“Please!” beggs Bib Fortuna, as he soobs at his feet. “We just want peace!” 

“ _ Peace is a lie, _ ” answers Luke as he cuts off one of his lekku, watching him squirm in agony.  _ “There is only passion.”  _

His mind is in a haze, drunk with the allure of the Darkness. Every limb he cuts, every head he severs, every life he snuffles out is like a shot of adrenaline directly into his veins. 

_ “Through passion,” _ he recites,  _ “I gain strength.” _

He closes his eyes and reaches out. There’s about a hundred beings running around the palace, and in the middle of their pathetic misery there’s Leia: a burning spitfire, like a newborn star. 

_ “Through strength,” _ Luke continues,  _ “I gain power.” _

He walks down the stairs to the basement. There’s dozens of prisoners, most of them slaves. He can feel their fear, but most of all he can feel their rage. Their righteous anger, their thirst for vengeance. 

Luke reaches out and with a flick of his hand he opens the cells. One by one, the slaves follow him out of the room, their ravenous minds following his like moths to a flame.

_ “Through power,” _ he tells them as they watch him attentively,  _ “I gain victory.” _

Together, they raid the throne room. Luke slices through more races of aliens than he has ever seen before in his life. He cuts down everyone in his path, and especially enjoys relieving a Mandalorian in green armor of his head. Something feels  _ right _ about it. 

He approaches Leia, who’s still chained to the wall. Her prosthetic arm looks torn and mangled, like someone bashed it in with a hammer. Regardless, she’s calm, her eyes fixated on his face. 

_ “Through victory,”  _ he says, and uses the crimson blade of his lightsaber to cut down her shackles,  _ “my chains are broken.” _

The metal clanks as it falls to the ground. Something in the Force  _ shifts _ , like the stars aligning themselves again. Leia looks at him with her warm brown eyes. 

_ “The Force shall free me, _ ” she finishes.

Luke smiles. 

***

Luke expects her to be silent on the trip back to Imperial Center. He doesn’t cuff her again, it would be humiliating to do so after freeing her. They might be the first Freeborn Skywalkers, and she has lost that. She’s Freed now. But nothing will erase the scar of her chains.

He contacts Admiral Piett. He asks him to tell his Father to meet him at the Imperial Palace. The Admiral looks insecure for a second. 

“Your orders were to bring her back to The Executor, sir.” 

If Luke wasn’t so determined to end this, he would have lashed out at his audacity. 

“I know what my orders are. But I also have orders from the Emperor himself. Inform Lord Vader we’ll reach the Palace in twelve hours.” 

He cuts the communication before Piett can add anything else. 

***

“I know you won’t ever forgive me,” Leia says. “But I did it for us.”

Luke thinks about every time he asked his Father for mercy, the countless times the Master demanded results and Luke could only offer cold leads and dead rumors. He thinks about the lightning scars that permanently decorate his skin, and the weight of the metal arm that hangs off his shoulder.

“Don’t insult me, Leia. You saved yourself. At least be honest about that.”

***

Vader watches, standing from the side of his Master’s chair as his children enter the throne room. The Imperial Guards that were flanking them don’t enter. Luke walks with his head held high, shoulders squared and a determined expression on his face. Leia looks resigned, but not scared. She was never scared in the face of danger. 

Something about the image is strangely familiar. 

As they reach the throne, Luke sinks to his knees in front of the Emperor. 

“You have done good, my child,” praises him Palpatine. With a wave of his hand, he forces Leia to her knees as well. She glares at him from the floor, ever the defiant one. 

Sidious rises from his seat and turns to Vader. “Would you do the honors, my old friend?” 

Vader ignites his blade. Both his children are on their knees, one staring at the floor and the other glaring daggers into his skull. His Master smiles, predatory, enjoying the perversity of the moment, and stands above them. 

He raises his blade and swings it through the air. 

Luke flinches, but remains still on the floor. Leia jumps back, and lets out a scream of horror. Palpatine’s head rolls through the floor and arrives at her feet. She stares at it, petrified. 

Vader walks up to Luke and puts a hand on his shoulder. The boy trembles under his touch. 

“Rise,” he indicates. 

His legs shaking, Luke obeys. His eyes are a deep ocean blue, glistening with tears. 

“You have done well, my son,” Vader says, echoing the last words Palpatine had said. “And I’m very proud of you.” 

At those words, and like he had opened the gates of the dam and let out the water flow downstream, Luke starts to sob. His entire body crumbles, and Vader has to hold him by the shoulders to prevent him from falling to the floor. He circles him with his arms and holds him tightly against his armored chest, and lets the young man wail his sorrows away. 

Over his son’s shoulder, Vader finds Leia’s attentive gaze. 

Her eyes shine with gold. 


End file.
